


Clay

by PaP



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (Archie Comic), Sonic the Hedgehog (Video Games), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: A mockery of creation, Alien Character(s), Alternate Universe - Horror, Can a perfect being be considerate of his lessers?, Can love change purpose?, Can perfection tolerate anything less?, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Good versus Evil, Intimacy, Introspection, Lovecraftian, M/M, Nature Versus Nurture, Oh My God, Older Characters, Science Fiction, Shadow is created artificially and is faced with his purpose, Tentacles, Tragic Romance, Yes I wrote tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24023758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaP/pseuds/PaP
Summary: He was born in secret. Then he grew to adulthood, but he had no shape. As a right of passage into their world, he took their offered bodies and as he began to resemble them, he chose that name, Shadow, the deceptive copy. He was destined to be perfect. He was reassured of this, before he emerged as truly complete - he has a purpose.He won't always be this hideous.
Relationships: Amy Rose/Rouge the Bat, Amy Rose/Shadow the Hedgehog, Amy Rose/Sonic the Hedgehog, Knuckles the Echidna/Rouge the Bat, Knuckles the Echidna/Shadow the Hedgehog, Rouge the Bat/Shadow the Hedgehog, Shadow the Hedgehog/Sonic the Hedgehog
Comments: 23
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

“Shadow, huh?”

Knuckles winces from his place at the sealed doors, thinking the name a foul omen.

“Shadow. Hmm. Shadow…” Predictably, though, his superior doesn’t mind, in fact, quite the opposite effect seems to be had. “How fitting, yes, and quite…” Rouge chuckles, a lovely sound, then purrs, “Oh, dare I say it, sexy?” into the sterile air, lips glossy, teeth sharp, speaking unprofessionally despite her professional importance. "My, my, that's quite a name." She is often inappropriate and always well paid for being so oddly efficient at her work. “Mm. Shadow.”

The echidna's mind wanders a bit as he stands rigidly at the entrance, the exit, and studies the bat from this distance more often than he dares look at the thing she's talking so cheerfully to. He's a shy man, he prefers to observe, mostly, and he tries not to worry. He felt a kinship with her the moment they met, even when encountering someone so brazen, the empathy was immediate. She seemed to be hurting, lonely, and he knows how that feels. She doesn’t belong here, not in this prison, and neither does he, but here he stays, for her, keeping her safe. Tracing her muscular thighs and an old scar on her back, bared as it is by the hole cut to compensate her folded wings, he imagines the freedom that was most likely an adventurous, selfish past. How far they've both come.

“Shadow! Oh, you’ll be incredible.”

Knuckles can only briefly shake his head in wary disapproval, scattering his rugged mane, a distinct trait of his kind, and when the quills settle again, they cascade over his squared shoulders and armoured chest, rendering him unusually beautiful. He lusts, convinces himself that he loves, too, and yet he pities himself. Despite his loyal service, Rouge has not come to look at him with the same level of respect and affection as she does when she gazes across the chamber at that thing suspended in wires and gasses, and he knows that a certain pure quality within his revulsion is caused by his unfulfilled wishes. He does not want to consider what may happen to him when the thing emerges fully formed and he is likely no longer needed. Yet he should thank its existence, that he is here, now, watching over her from this distance, for however much longer it will last. Indeed, he's far more of a thoughtful, feeling being than others give him credit for. 

The shielding tube has been temporarily unsealed, because the creature insisted on it, desiring contact with select few individuals to aid its learning. She is one of them, the primary person, and she takes pride in that. It is reaching, now, and she takes some moments to appreciate being so desirable to a being with such potential, safe within her capable care.

But he is always at the doors when she comes, guarding, and it took an open fascination for him, also. It only stays away because it was not permitted to touch him again. He made sure of that the moment it began to display its burgeoning hedgehog traits in the most disconcertingly wrong way, convincing him that it is never to be trusted, no matter how innocently curious it may seem, reaching out to her, avoiding him.

“Shadow,” the bat says huskily, again, whilst cradling a book in her large, almost masculine hands, and this time, she says it like she’s known the name for years and grown very fond of knowing it, as if it’s been present in her heart as long as she’s personally overseen the development of the still forming mass before her, treating this project very much like a person and not a construct, as if she can already see this person in the muscular pulsation, the visible heartbeat. “You like that name, Shadow?” Her apparent liking for the Ultimate Lifeform has come as a surprise to almost everyone, even herself, as she’s never held attachments so strongly, before. “Because I certainly enjoy it. Shadow.”

The echidna huffs. He can’t understand it, how she can fawn over such a disgusting creation by any means other than vanity itself, even after it chose a name that could hardly be more sinister, foreboding. He can only speculate the creature’s actual purpose, but a cure this monster is not. And yet she loves it more than she loves him, offers it the choice of its own name, and relishes its evil choice, without even considering him a serious romantic prospect when he's tries to appease her loneliness with his. He feels so used every time, never mind that he could be fired for it.

“Shadow.” The dictionary is gently set down on the sterile little table, the occupant of the sterile little chair leaning forward to rest both elbows, chin settling on the back of interweaving fingers. “Truly, honey, I think that’s splendid. But…” Rouge’s snowy eyebrows rise above the narrow lenses of her glasses, aquamarine eyes peering beneath heavy, painted lids, alluringly cold and dangerously clever. “This is, of course, quite the decision to make for yourself. Would you like some time to ponder it, perhaps alone? I can play that music you like.”

The pages are thus left spread before the writhing mass of flesh and sprouting quills that have not yet gathered appropriately in nature’s allotted places, projecting like a sea urchin from pores sagging and spaced apart, acquiring the colours of red (perhaps based on Knuckles himself, though he isn’t flattered one bit), and black (chosen despite Sonic’s blue and Amy’s pink, the intended templates, two excellent hedgehog specimens, thus it is a mystery in and of itself that must be deemed artistic liberty when no explanation for the design has been given).

But it’s that soft tuft of white fur, so similar to the bat’s, that makes the watchful echidna burn the most whenever her dares to look at it instead of her, that thing she loves instead of him. His teeth could crack under the pressure of his buried grimace, because he dares to look, just then, and he sees a tendril extend from the pulsing rest, underdeveloped fingers projecting unevenly from its length, like the taproot of a plant, slowly and gently reaching.

“I want you to love your name.” Rouge doesn’t move, eyes following, body poised without any fear that she could be easily crushed or torn apart or yanked into the mass, as she is confident in their intimacy. She has toiled for years to earn it, given so much more of herself than she knew a woman like her could still give, after all the heartbreak. "Okay, honey?"

Knuckles, however, tenses up like he always does, the distinctive spikes on his clenched, trembling fists always unsheathed in readiness to defend. He loathes the idea of it, this connection, and justifies this loathing with the lack of some rival male to hate, though he’s too polite to ever suggest anything so carnal, not after their coupling when she rolls over and stares at the wall instead of into his eyes. And he cares too much about her, the bat he doesn’t understand, but empathizes with, to survive the possibility of being truly disposed of.

“You have to be proud when I call you by your name. I’ll accept no less.”

He recoils as the tendril makes contact.

Playfully, the glasses are nudged further along the bridge of her nose.

"Then Shadow is your name.”

Knuckles sucks in air and Rouge breathes out calmly.

“Perfect."

Shadow’s soon-to-be hand slowly withdraws.

“I’m so very happy for you, honey.”

The echidna who guards the bat feels useless and his body collapses, yet he remains powerful and firm, so it's a strange thing, to sense his boots still planted upon the ground, stance dominant, far enough removed from his emotions to set himself apart, to prove that he cannot be threatened so easily, even as he hurts, inside, amethysts darting away.

“Shadow. I can't wait to meet you, soon.”

Rubies delve into aquamarine, communicating in ways that don’t need words, intoxicating, impatient despite the docile body, and such a glare will bring soul to the architect’s unfinished work.


	2. Chapter 2

“I hope, when this is all over, they’ll mostly take after you.”

Sonic looks up from his tray, startled, fork suspended before his mouth, prongs oozing mashed vegetables as it tilts in his inattention to eating, just then, his distinct, windswept quills the most enchanting shade of blue.

“Of course, I’d like a little me thrown into the mix, just for spiciness. But yeah."

Emeralds regard a paler shade of green, no less beautiful.

"Why am I saying this, only now? I dunno. Just felt right, right now, just putting that out there. I guess?”

He slowly lowers his fork, setting it carefully on the edge of his plate. Thinking of some funny, clever quip when it’s hard to think around Amy, sometimes, times like this one.

“Don’t try to argue with me.” She is smirking. It’s an unusual expression, on her, yet it’s as passionately good-natured and well-meaning as most of her other expressions. “I mean it.” She manages to make a smirk seem so beautiful and noble, simply because it’s her who smirks, the person she is. Her lips, tinged rosily by her blush. “I hope the Ultimate Lifeform turns out like you, mostly, and that’s just how I feel about it. Even if the colours are different, even if the shape of their eyes isn't quite the same as yours, I'm hopeful that their heart will be familiar, to me.”

“Amy,” is all he manages, at first, heat creeping to the surface of his face.

“And not only do I hope so, but I know that’d be for the best. You're so kind at heart…” She hums a brief tune, then adds coolly, “But of course, I'd not complain if they keep a bit of my rugged pluck and maybe my ladylike clumsiness, too.”

“Amy,” he says again, finding himself grinning, despite his reprimanding tone, “you’re not clumsy.”

“Sonic,” is her gentle reply as she sets her fork down and pushes her tray aside, allowing her to splay her hands out on the metallic surface of their shared table, raising an eyebrow at him from across the narrow space. “Really?” She has petite, but powerful hands.

“Well…”

“I’m not even a little bit clumsy, huh?”

“’Kay. Fine. A little bit clumsy.” He winks at her, regaining his wits. “But only a little bit!” He demonstrates this with a minor gap between finger and thumb.

“You’re far too nice."

"But that was a lot to say, after so long."

"I've gotten to know you, by now.” She sighs, drumming her fingers one by one, in a wavelength of agile motion, on the tabletop. “God, I think about us being here, sometimes, and, like, can you actually believe what we’re doing? What we’re involved in?”

"Still sinking in for me."

“Life! We’re creating life – together.”

"Damn, you’re right." He clears his throat and scuffs the floor with his shoe, below, at the risk of losing his wits, again. "It still seems crazy.”

“We’re moulding life. We’re like god!”

“Sounds narcissistic, calling ourselves out, like that, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah! When I put it like that, I guess it kinda is narcissistic. We're not perfect, after all.”

"D'you think only a perfect being can get away with saying stuff like that?"

"Without seeming at least kinda narcissistic? I dunno. But the Ultimate Lifeform's being made for a generous purpose. What little of it Rouge will tell us. Maybe that helps our case?"

“Hope so! After how far they've come. Eyes, then quills, and now, they’re figuring out how fingers work.”

“Seems a little out of sequence, doesn’t it?”

“I'm not sure. Quills do seem simpler. Then again, Amy, wouldn’t you want eyes, first?”

“That’s very profound, Sonic. Choosing to see, before choosing to resemble anyone. Learning to listen, before even being able to speak. And not even a name, yet. No gender. No sex.”

“They’re going a little wild with the colours, too. I dig it.”

“Where on earth did that inspiration come from?”

“Individuality. We might be the, uh, what did Rouge say we are?”

“Templates.”

“Templates, right. But this isn’t a clone. And none of that social constraint stuff when it's us in the chamber, with them. We’re just still-life and they’re taking what they like, then doing their own thing with the rest.”

“Just a differing copy. A variable reflection of us. Like us, inspired by us, but not entirely ours. I hope Rouge teaches them to love who they are, who they'll be."

“She's got it covered, I think.”

"I just hope."

"Good. World needs more of that." The blue hedgehog, a fine male specimen chosen very specifically for this purpose, sighs and sits back in his chair, gaze rolling up to the brightly lit ceiling whilst the female, almost ideally constructed by some generational gift of natural selection, continues to admire him. “Whoever they turn out to be, they’re embracing that individuality, right there. In the chamber."

"Rouge wouldn't crush that."

"She's not so bad, yeah. But speaking of before, at the very least, lemme get something out there, too, right now."

"Yeah?"

"The Ultimate Lifeform's gonna be someone special. I hope they’ll mostly resemble you.”

“C’mon, I told you not to argue!”

“Inside, your good heart. Not a copy. No, just a resemblance. Nobody can be Amy Rose ’sides yourself.”

“Tch. Sonic.”

“Hey, you had your turn to flirt, Ames.”

“Gonna make me melt, one of these days. Then there will be no interfacing.”

He seamlessly transitions, then, giving her a handsome, easy-going smile, almost outshone by those emerald eyes, still upcast. "Can't have that."

“Somebody get me a bucket. Mop me into it.” She bristles, but it’s not a defensive mechanism. Rather, her quills grow erect in response to the pleasurable shiver that she feels, rippling throughout her body. “Sonic,” she whispers. Her heart hurts wonderfully. He's so beautiful. She's never felt so intensely for someone else, before.

He falls forward in his chair quite suddenly and takes up his fork with newfound earnestness.

* * *

“Shall we pick up from where we left off, then?”

Shadow’s eyes follow Rouge as she perches on the edge of the desk, forgoing the chair. She's sure to keep within easy reach of grasping tendrils, another book in her elegant grasp.

“I believe we were on page…” She makes a thoughtful sound whilst extracting the marker from its place, allowing Shadow to take it from her. “Don’t break that.”

As if to test the boundaries of her patience, the tendril bends the embellished card.

“You jackass."

Eyes like rubies delve searingly into cool, calm aquamarine, playful in a way most would misinterpret as threatening.

"Do you want me to read to you or not? I have paperwork I could return to.”

The Ultimate Lifeform elects to behave, neatly straightening the bookmark again.

"That's better, hon."

Shadow settles for something marginally more or less entertaining than being left alone to process information gained from interfacing, a combination of thought and physical change, but this company is certainly far from feeling as lonely, when that echidna is so stiff, albeit curious.

“Right.” She sets her narrow glasses in place, which make her feel old. “No more nonsense.”

Those searing eyes reassure her that the Ultimate Lifeform wouldn't dream of it, for all the hope and life there is, in dreaming.

Rouge swings her fashionable heel back and forth, one leg propped casually over another, as she coughs quietly into a glove to ready her husky narrator’s voice.

Knuckles waits at the door, readying himself to stand by for the next couple of hours of her free time, which the bat likes to spend in that creature's company more than anyone else’s, and although he does not appreciate this fact, he does rather enjoy listening to the stories she tells. They’re so much more entertaining than the works of nonfiction, but then again, his education was limited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are kind.
> 
> Comments are certainly very much appreciated, especially the constructively critical ones.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hi, Rouge, how are you?”

The underling wonders, again, with an edge of annoyance and admiration combined, how the template can get away with using her first name like that, defiant of the tainting seduction by staying so strangely pure. A pleasantly veiled threat, they’ve come to know, in the body of a woman, after the echidna started acting strangely. A lure, as is every smile and graceful movement. 

Yet the hedgehog refers to the bat by her name, like an old friend, and cannot be deemed a fool, because there's a strange respectful tension between them. Or perhaps templates may simply be too valuable to tempt and tamper with.

The underling supposes, anyway, that it's better for mere underlings to keep a safe distance, as hard as that can be.

A low, feminine grunt, far too close to his ear, is given in place of an immediate answer. Evidently Rouge is a little distracted, right now, quite busy overseeing his work from over his shoulder. She does this not only because she likes to know what is happening at any given moment, but also because she is rather cruel, like that, deliberately instigating at least a little unease on any given target for the fun of it, without upsetting the entire team. She seemingly gets very bored when not in the chamber with her pet project.

He gives no indication of his discomfort at this proximity, besides typing frantically to distract himself from the ample cleavage poised to distract alongside his field of vision, though he keeps his eyes ahead. He needs to find some other job, soon, before he loses passion for his patiently waiting sweetheart entirely. At least he doesn't break out in a sweat, anymore.

“I’m fine, thanks,” is the calm, eventual drawl. “You?”

“I’m great, thank you! Had a good run with Sonic, earlier, then took a nice, long shower before coming over here. Otherwise, I'd be all sweaty and gross.”

"And I'd complain, yes. Did you two take that shower as one?"

“As in, together? Hahaha, I wish!"

"It could happen."

"Don't be a tease. How inappropriate!”

Bending over the rigid shoulder of this inwardly horribly flustered employee, growing increasingly flustered as Rouge hums lowly with thought, before she looks up from the monitor at his station, her beautiful face lit artificially, giving the glass window to the chamber beyond a penetrating stare. She smiles a self-assured smile at some private thought.

“Anyway! Can we get started?"

"Shadow's ready for you."

There’s a pause.

"Shadow?"

“Yes, honey, Shadow.”

“Did…? Did they really…?”

“They did.” The bat uses a very pleasant tone when talking to the cute pink hedgehog, because truthfully, Rouge has found her match. She has not been able to do much that throws Amy off, as the younger woman is seemingly too sweet to be thrown under as easily as most, by feminine wiles, nor is it wise to attempt to tamper too much with a template. Tamper a little, certainly, but not too much. But there's a keen mind, behind those endearing mannerisms, and keen minds ought not to be taken lightly.

The underling wasn't too far from right.

“Oh. Oh, wow.”

“Mmhm.”

“Wow!”

“Uh-huh.”

A squeal of delight draws several sets of eyes.

"I knew you'd be thrilled."

“Bust out some booze, we gotta celebrate!”

“Oh, that goes without saying."

"Not just that! C'mon, tough guy!" A palm playfully collides with the firm muscles of a bent back, between folded wings. "You must be beside yourself, inside!"

"Yup." Plump lips smack together, producing a punctuating pop at the end. This is to hide just how mutual this excitement is. “Sitting in there with a dictionary for hours every day for god knows how many days finally paid off.”

Slapping calloused hands together and bouncing in place, Amy flashes her purest smile at Rouge’s shapely backside.

“Quite melodramatic, but lovely, isn’t it?”

"It's absolutely beautiful!"

The underlings feel at least a glimmer, of happiness, too, when presented with such a casual exchange.

"I wish I'd been there, when they chose that name."

“I hope Sonic will be even half as excited about this as you are, hon.” The bat slowly rises to her full, impressive height and, giving the underling a fond little pat on the shoulder, then turns to the hedgehog, forgoing staring at that window in favour of a carefully selected specimen. “Shadow is ready for you, now. Be sure to give them a taste of your enthusiasm.”

“Can I hug them?”

Rouge’s aloof posture grows a little more relaxed at that, her smile softening. “If they consent, then I won’t forbid it.”

“Awesome!”

“Be gentle, please.”

“I will, don’t worry!”

"You always are. I really do need to trust you."

"You're just overprotective, s'all."

"And you're not in the least bit offended. Run along and change. Shadow's been kept waiting quite long enough."

Amy offers an impromptu high-five, which is reciprocated dryly, before she hurries along to be decontaminated and otherwise prepared to enter the sealed chamber.

“Cute little thing, isn’t she?”

“Yes, ma’am,” replies the underling, relieved not to be so pressured, anymore.

The guard, having been leaning silently against a cool wall to witness, grumbles, “Shall I go in with her?”

"That would be protocol. But not this time. Let them be alone, together, this time. Well. As alone as they can be."

* * *

“Hi, Shadow!”

Crimson eyes burn in recognition, tendrils shifting sinuously in greeting, excitement rippling throughout errant quills and twisting muscles. It's very nice, having a name.

“Looking good, sweetie! Some new quills, I see. They’ll go so well with your name. Congrats!”

The muscular construct swells with pride.

“Bet you’re feeling really mysterious with a name like that, huh? Shadow!” Amy skips closer, her suit pinned to every contour of her lithe muscles, allowing her body to be traced whilst her modesty remains intact. Her structure is deceptive, because for someone who seems so slight, her strange physical power is immense, supported by bones so unusually dense for her kind, keeping her intact even as she reaches into an alternative dimension of her own imagination, to draw out what is familiar and uniquely hers, a weapon of unearthly materials. “Can I give you a hug, Shadow? To celebrate!"

The being is still processing how she can produce such miracles, inwardly digesting her abilities for personal use whilst admiring the template’s raw physical facilities, as well. Shadow seems to sigh, but obliges her in kind, entwining about her sturdy limbs and torso whilst she spreads herself out and invites closeness, the embrace hardly conventional.

“Ooh, you’re so warm, today!”

Shadow would huff, if that were possible, tracing the edge of her smile with a crude thumb.

"And that's interesting. Your scent's changed. Shadow, are you showing off?"

Rubies, suspended in a face that hasn't defined itself, yet, flicker.

"Sonic will be so impressed."

An arrogant, yet affectionate quality is personified in those eyes, where there are no other distinguishing features for expression so specific. It's something about how the pupils expand, then contract, then expand again.

“Thanks, sweetie.” She giggles fondly. “I know hugging isn’t your thing, but it means a lot to me, that you’ll do it if I ask – but only for me, right? I’m special like that. Aren’t I, Shadow?”

A tendril brushes her quills aside, exposing more of her strong cheek and jawline. She would be difficult to destroy. She simply shouldn’t exist the way she does. It’s fascinating.

“Right, then. Interface time?”

Shadow assents with a subtle quivering against her skin.

She tenses a little, but not out of fear or distaste. She’s excited. It’s her body responding automatically after learning to anticipate much stimulation. “I’m ready when you are.”

Crimson eyes mutely analyse her at all times whilst she is in the chamber, but interfacing is a far deeper experience than what can be seen on the outside.

“Shadow.”

These rubies are arresting, generally a distraction from the sensuous strain of interfacing, a means by which the templates can stay grounded in reality as they are, in a sense, taken apart and studied systematically from within. The template’s composition is memorised and selective traits are studied, so as to be perfected and applied, thus aiding in the development of the hedgehog-based Ultimate Lifeform.

She took to it quite eagerly, being a woman who enjoys proximity. A courageous, passionate woman, without much fear of anyone or anything. Her virgin desire to truly connect with someone has been caressed and prodded in ways she'd never thought possible, before the first time.

Those eyes hold hers in quiet intensity.

But as the euphoria hits her, she stutters her breaths and temporarily can’t speak, though her knees stay stable, because she was chosen for her ability to give worthy gifts and to survive their taking with her mind intact.

Reaching with fingers and coils of growing bone, stretched flesh, Shadow contorts like veins over her body, merging with the strange skin of the suit so that even her heartbeat is as visible to the immortal mind as the pink colour of her quills are to the fiery eyes.

An expletive, quiet and heavy with breath, is the first thing to tumble from lips and teeth as the ability to speak is recalled.

Shadow would chuckle, if Shadow could. A voice will be needed, eventually.

“Mmph.” She tries again, head supported by tendrils, legs still strong below. “Now that we… know each other… by our names…” Green slits roll aside. “This is… kinda…” Thighs quiver.

Shadow again silences her with dissecting pleasure. Part of what makes this necessity so amusing, is witnessing how mortals are so gently undone. Shadow could make this hurt. But what would be the value in such trust, if it were to be abused, without permission? She's only agreed to feeling good, if it can help Shadow change, to embody perfection.

She senses a request and complies as soon as she is able to process what it means, opening her hand to reach beyond, calloused palm and fingers filled with the familiar hilt.

Shadow immediately coils around the hammer, her wrist and her hand and the powerful arm joined to a subtly muscular shoulder. This miracle must be made sense of, even if all other secrets are discerned, this unnatural gift must be made known.

She makes that weapon vanish, then produces it again, within Shadow’s curious grasp. She cannot explain how she does it, but she can demonstrate, and perhaps one day, an answer will be given to her, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback I've received, thus far. It has been very encouraging. Whenever I re-read comments and count kudos, I'm reassured that this story is enjoyable to someone other than myself, which helps quite a bit with my delicate sense of worth.
> 
> Keep safe, everyone.


End file.
